


a more perfect fall

by arestlesswind



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Idiots in Love, On the Run, Post-Season/Series 03, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 13:30:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3938575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arestlesswind/pseuds/arestlesswind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"As soon as her eyes open, her palm checks his heart."</p>
<p>Small, scattered moments of a new life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a more perfect fall

**Author's Note:**

> My quiet little contribution to the fic goldmine that is your OTP driving off into the sunset. Shameless, shameless fluff. I make no apologies, even though I should. Especially since it was written in an hour and un-betaed.

She watches his hands steer.

“So. Where are we headed?”

Oliver smiles. If it can be called that. Flicker of the mouth, muscle memory failing to remember (afraid to remember?). One hand keeps the wheel while the other settles on her shoulder, reassuring himself she’s still there. Really, really there.

Felicity rests her cheek atop his knuckles to secure him, and makes herself not reach for his heart. It's not just him doubting. Here he is, alive, whole as he can manage, and _hers._

She keeps expecting the other shoe to drop; danger in the corner of her eye, prickling up their necks.

Oliver gone ( _Al Sah-him_ ), Oliver dead, Felicity waking up cold to the same dreams as him. 

Slowly, so he can't see, she pinches herself.

“Anywhere,” Oliver proclaims, with something not unlike wonder. “Anywhere we want.”

She rubs his wrist. “Not to ruin the romantic moment - the _very_ romantic moment - but we should probably pick a place. Pretty sure you’ve just been driving aimlessly. Which is fine, the romance. But known destination would be good. And I have to pee.”

The laugh tumbles out of him, and his smile’s her favorite kind, the one she hardly saw except when someone startled it from him - easy. Careless. Free. Everything he could be and should be and now, maybe. Maybe.

And Felicity realizes, an uncertain future is okay, when it’s this.

“They’ll be a gas station somewhere,” he says.

She kisses his wrist. The hairs stir beneath her mouth. “I’m not too proud to use the bushes.”

He doesn’t laugh again, but the smile remains. She wants it permanently etched there until she forgets the fading preservation in her memory.

“Where’d you like to go?” he asks, as the highway stretches for miles. “The one place you’ve always wanted to see.”

She squints as if the sun in her eyes blocks the answer.

“Honestly...I'm happy anywhere. As long as it’s with you.”

Oliver flushes down to his neck. The hand at her shoulder smooths to the back of her neck, and a gentle warmth infuses her cheeks. He leans over the length of the car and kisses her, and it’s amazing how something so simple can feel this remarkable.

Everything feels new. The hum of the engine, the car gliding over the road, the wind messing up her hair. His kiss as a new man without a name.

“Eyes on the road, Mr. Queen,” she orders.

Oliver chuckles and obeys. He keeps his hand on her knee.

Felicity covers it with hers.

Nothing behind them. No one at their necks.

Only the breeze rushing her skin. 

Every so often she looks down at herself to make sure happiness hasn’t split her open.

  
__________________________________________________________

 

They sleep under the stars, blanket between them and the grass. Just sleep; being a hero is tiring. Felicity’s out the second her head hits his shoulder, forgets to take off her glasses. In the morning they’re on the ground near her elbow, carefully folded.

As soon as her eyes open, her palm checks his heart.

 

__________________________________________________________

 

They escape, even though there isn't anything toescape. The past? No, no. They run _forward,_  nothing to hunt except the nebulous future.

“I assume you know where we’re going by now.”

“You said anywhere. So it’s a surprise.”

Oliver smirks devilish beneath tinted sunglasses, and her belly unwinds with desire like a sleeping snake. Later. Not when mauling him alive could end with the car going over a cliff.

They have later.

When the Venti Starbucks wears off, she sleeps, head in his lap, twilight fallen when they stop at a hotel. It’s only when she’s digging through her bag for pajamas she realizes how little she packed. (If _packing_ could be called  _throwing clothes in a bag, a comb stuck in her shower-wet hair, dancing to Beyonce.)_  Not that there’s much trunk space in Porches, anyway.

She flips on the bathroom light and doesn’t recognize herself in the mirror. Not with that kind of smile.

If they stay in bed all night and most of the next afternoon, and don’t sleep this time, who cares. There’s no Nanda Parbet to wake to.

Nothing but the dawn and Oliver chasing down every nerve beneath her skin.

  
__________________________________________________________

 

She rides him until stars explode behind her eyes. He chants her name into her mouth, her throat, soft between her thighs. So much for him to tell her and he falls short even now.

Felicity understands. She forgives. She yanks her fingers through his hair and is deeply grateful no one’s close enough to hear her scream.

This, separate anatomies blurred, will have to do.

  
  
__________________________________________________________

 

In the morning, she palms his heart.

 

  
__________________________________________________________

 

Even though no one’s looking, they don’t want to be found. He buys a hoodie and a ballcap and Felicity rolls her eyes.

“You look awful. Like one of my old hipster boyfriends.”

He kisses her temple, arm secure to her waist. “Just until we’re out of the country.”

“The country?” She echoes. She pushes up on her toes and fists the front of his shirt. He stops in place. “You’re really going for run-off-into-the-sunset romance angle here, huh?”

He runs his thumb across her chin. Right there in public, it nearly weakens her to her knees.

“Better late than never,” Oliver says quietly.

  
  
__________________________________________________________

 

"I never thanked you for saving me."

Felicity nuzzles closer into his chest. "Yeah, that was pretty awesome of me."

"I mean..." Oliver sighs. Laughs under his breath, while he teases her hair around his fingers. "You saved me, Felicity. Does that..."

No words. Or they pile up in his throat, too many, he'll choke.

"Do you understand?" he finally whispers, and there's no syringe pressed into her palm.

Of course she does. She always has.

 

__________________________________________________________

 

"I was thinking..."

"Hmm?" Felicity blows on her steaming coffee.

"Maybe, after a while, if we want to settle...we could get a place of our own."

Felicity grins, squints at him without her glasses. "You mean it?"

"Only if you want."

She leans across the counter and grasps his hand.

"You're sweet. And an idiot. I think it's safe to assume I want everything with you."

 

__________________________________________________________

 

They run. Into the sun and over the ocean. A quiet place in the middle of nowhere, that Felicity could GPS coordinate but never touches her computer.

It’s a while before either of them stop jumping at sounds, looking over their shoulders. The important part is that they do.

Every morning, without fail, she checks his heart.


End file.
